


Eternal Light

by K_A_Baines



Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Angels, Dimension Travel, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Sex, Kidnapping, M/M, Monsters, Quests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 20:20:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12092679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_A_Baines/pseuds/K_A_Baines
Summary: Yes, the title is cheesy but I couldn't come up with anything else. It's about a Deva and a Solar and their love unbound by time or distance and unicorns and whatnot... Let me know if I make spelling mistakes, or what you would change about it if you'd written it - feedback is definitely appreciated.





	Eternal Light

He slung the backpack over his shoulder, bid the innkeeper to have a nice day and exited the small hovel, closing the door behind him. Instantly he felt eyes on him; a shiver ran down his spine. He turned, and saw a man staring at him down the alley.   
It was like their souls were singing to each other in recognition, but he’d never seen the man before. A humanoid, tall for his kind, probably near his own height - and he stood with head and shoulders above the rest of the humanoids in this part of the city.   
Someone, somewhere, screamed. His head shot away from the man who’d begun moving towards him, he’d have his time another day.   
Instantly he was off, sprinting through alleys no wider than corridors, passing through groups who respectfully backed off.  
He rounded another corner, and there he saw a Thug, cornering a Halfling. This was a rough part of the suburbs - obviously people around here had become accustomed to such things taking place.   
With grace, he jumped, and side-kicked the man in the head. The impact sent him jarring into the wall, and then onto the ground, where he lay unconscious. The woman was sobbing, and he embraced her warmly in comfort. She went rigid, but when she saw the blue markings on his skin, she relaxed, crying her thanks.   
After a while she had retained her breathing, he patted her head, smiled at her, and offered to bring her home. She declined, wiped the tears from her eyes, and went on her way, the man groaning as he regained consciousness.   
He walked over to the thug and heaved him up by the collar of his shirt, half dragging him out into a crowded street where he spotted a guard who heard his story and took the thug into custody.   
Again, eyes watched him. But these eyes were malicious with heinous intent. He looked around, saw a humanoid watching him - a noble of some sort, walking down the alley with a group of personal guards pushing people out of the way. A hooded man walked behind him, and it was those eyes that worried Alw’ion most.   
The noble pointed at him. It seemed he was not welcome here.   
He turned and weaved through the crowd of traders and civilians, glancing over his shoulder every now and then. The noble was making slow but steady progress, but his companion had disappeared.   
He had the intense urge to look up, and saw there the hooded man, black furred hands facing the wrong way. An assassin.  
People would get hurt here if he stayed. He began running and pushing through the crowd - people tried making way for him, but the streets were so crowded it was hard going.   
What were they after? Were they really trying to kill him?  
Sweat beaded up on his forehead. Eventually he turned into a narrow, deserted alley and sprinted down it, weaving into another street, and jumping up on a cart before propelling himself onto the ledge of a stone wall. The assassin was across the street, miraculously still hooded.  
He glanced at the families that littered the streets. Still not safe to fight here.  
Continuing on, his breathing came hard, but he pushed on until he reached the outskirts, and then kept going until he came to a halt in a field of sand and patches of dry grass, turning to face his pursuer.  
The man took but a minute, and stood, shoulders barely moving - he seemed not to have tired at all. A hand went up, the hood came off.  
“Naztharune,” he hissed, throwing down his backpack and unsheathing his sword as the black tiger did the same, mirroring his movements. Then the tiger pounced, lip curled up to bare his razor teeth, death in his eyes.   
Metal hit metal, the sound clanging in the air. The creature’s hits were hard and fast, but being Naztharune, he posed little threat. If he died here, he would be reborn, anyway.   
Gathering his luck, he cast the Dishearten spell, and saw the tiger stumbling clumsily over his own feet. He saw his opening and lunged in, but the creature had been prepared, and brought his sword up. Hurriedly, Alw’ion cast a teleportation spell, and stood several feet away from the assassin, shaking at the closeness of his encounter with death. There was movement behind him - the nobleman and his party had shown up. Some mutated, others remained humanoid. The noble was Rakshasa, and seemed to be one of the fallen.   
This new development did not bode well for him.   
He muttered the words, and summoned a Force Shard, sending it off to the Naztharune, who struck it aside with his sword. Within seconds he was surrounded. They leaped at him. His blows were parried, and he was quickly overmastered, pinned to the ground, dirt in his mouth, eye swelling and painful, taking kicks to his stomach and back.   
“Bring him,” the Rakshasa growled, preventing the Naztharune from delivering the killing blow, which would have been a welcome event considering the group’s malice. The black beast glared down at him, snarling.  
Alw’ion barely saw the arrow shoot through his neck, but the fountain of blood was evidence enough. The blue markings on his skin were now spotted with red, and more was to come.   
The Rakshasa roared, and turned, jumping and rolling out of the way of another arrow, aimed at his temple.   
“Never mind, kill the Deva!” Several advanced on him as tiger-face cast spells towards a to Alw’ion unseen foe to protect them, but they were all met with the same fate. The Rakshasa no longer saw any hope of victory, and began to run, but an arrow in the back of his head floored him.  
With his remaining strength, Alw’ion looked up at the figure in the sky, the silhouette of three pairs of wings absolutely breath-taking. One of his brothers had come to his aid. His world went dark. 

He awoke in clean bedsheets smelling of flowers that grew only in the place he knew to be home. He tried sitting up, but his ribs bade him to stay still. There was movement beside the bed - it was dark, so he couldn’t tell for sure, but it seemed to be a man.  
“You’re finally awake. How do you feel?” The voice was masculine and commanding, self-confident and unyielding.  
“My body has seen better days, but my soul is light.”  
“Good,” he could hear the smile in the man’s voice.   
“May I enquire as to my location?”  
“You are back home; I brought you back to the Celestial Plain.”  
“I suspected as much. Why did you expend such energies on the likes of me?”  
“I would do anything for you - a brother in arms.”  
“Well, you have my thanks. However, I do not wish to be a burden.”  
“You are no burden to me. Take your time, you are welcome here.”  
He sank his head back into the cushions, a smile on his lips. “Thank you.”  
“I will leave you to rest.”  
Without another word, the man left deftly, closing the door behind him quietly. It wasn’t long before he fell into a deep slumber.

When he awoke, his pains were mere irritating throbbing in his body - his body’s regenerative qualities were helping him out greatly.   
He threw the blankets off of him and sat at the side of the bed. He was accustomed to beds made for humans, where his feet could easily touch the ground. But now he felt like a child, missing another foot in length to reach the floor.  
He hopped off the bed, noted his own nudity. In the dim light, he managed to find his belongings laid out in a corner, and dressed himself.   
With a bit of excitement at meeting his saviour properly, he explored his way to a stone patio. When he stepped onto it, he was surrounded by light, temporarily blinded. He squinted, and saw a man walking towards him, an infinite blue sky behind him.  
He stopped closer than was customary, but the shade was welcome to his eyes.  
The man was gorgeous. His skin was perfect, but indistinguishable if it was silver or actually bronze or somewhere in between. His neck was long, a strong jaw bone and high cheek bones being the basic structure of his face. His eyes were oceans of endless calm, his long brown hair swayed slightly in the breeze. The only imperfection on his face was a thin scar that cut his upper lip; it could have healed properly, meaning he had wanted a reminder of the event.  
“Solar,” Alw’ion breathed in awe. To entertain the amazed Deva, the Solar unfurled all three pairs of his mighty wings, curling lightly around the two of them.  
“How are you feeling?”  
“Much better, brother, thanks to your care.”  
They stared at each other, until the Solar finally broke the silence, trailing a pattern on Alw’ion’s cheek with one of the feathers at the tip of his upper wing. The lightness sent a shiver running down the Deva’s spine.  
“Such beautiful markings; I expected as much.” Again they sank back into silence, but when the Solar noticed his discomfort, he stretched out his wings and revealed the land before them.  
“Welcome to the House of the Triad.” The view was awe-inspiring; the mountains opposing them crowded with lofty building with countless arches that showed how open this place was - the aura one of safety and security. Trees tried to follow its stone companions into the sky, ivy and climbing fruits curling up around them both. Waterfalls split the areas, skeletal bridges linking them again; ponds and fountains littered the plazas when plants or traders did not. Elegant figures walked and flew around the place, Archons and Formians moving about, an angel, whether that be Solar or Planetar, being a rare sight.  
He hadn’t even noticed he’d walked to the edge of the patio, looking down into the valley and back up at the sky. The Solar hovered just behind him, humoured at his childish amazement.   
“Are you hungry, young one?”  
The question brought him to his senses. He nodded his reply, trying arduously to tear his gaze away from the sight.   
“Stay here, I will have food brought up.” Celestially, the Solar moved back into the building, only to return a little later with a Formian bearing a hedonist’s dream - roseapples, Elysian pears, sea-plums, cheeses, breads and hand pies, alongside a glass of lotus leaf wine. His stomach was growling before the Formian had left.   
“Please, dig in,” the Solar gestured. With a mere second’s hesitation, he bit into a fruit, and sighed at its sweetness before moving onto the bread and the assortment of toppings.   
When his hunger was sated, he resorted to sipping the wine slowly.   
“I would love to draw this - do you mind if I practice my sketching later on?”  
“By all means, I would love to see the end result.”  
The Solar was nipping at his own goblet of lotus wine, eyes more on him than the wondrous sight.  
“What were you doing in Calimport?”  
“I was on a personal quest.”  
“Did you... succeed?”  
The Solar turned his head to him. “Yes. Yes, I did.”  
“What was the quest?”  
“I labelled it personal for a reason,” he chuckled. In reply, he blushed and looked away, ashamed of his lack of self-control. “What is your name in this lifetime, young one?”  
“Alw’ion is what I have chosen for myself.” the Solar repeated it, tasting it in every corner of his mouth as if it was something sensational. He then went on to give a firm nod.  
“The name suits you.”  
“And you? How are you called?”  
“Have you forgotten that a Solar’s name holds power? Earn my trust and earn my name.” The Solar winked, lightening his words to something that Alw’ion saw now as fact instead of confrontation. “Now get your sketching material - I have matters to attend to in the coming days that require travel out of the Celestial Planes. If you care to join me on my ventures, you are more than welcome. Think about it before you give your answer. Now, I have an errand to run.” With a gentle gesture, the Solar pushed a lock of platinum hair behind his ear. “Until later, Alw’ion.” He did not wait for a reply, instead hurling himself over the edge, his wings catching the wind with practised ease. The Deva admired the perfection of the movements, loathing his own mortal body for never attaining such a level of grace.  
Remembering how he had come here, he stalked back to his rooms, noting the curtain had been thrown open and the bed made.   
He collected his meagre belongings and went back to sit on the ledge, feet dangling, but feeling little fear and no vertigo; must have something to do with his angelic blood.   
Without much effort, the paper came to life, first just in shadows, and then layered with different kinds of fine inks he’d spent months saving up for.   
When he’d completed several sketches, he allowed his hands to roam free, his mind going blank as he let his creativity flow out of him.  
“Your art is magnificent,” a voice proclaimed behind him. He jumped at the suddenness, but a hand grabbed his shoulder to stabilize him.   
He looked down at the picture, and up at the Solar, noting the imperfections of his drawing.   
“Magnificent it is not, it is too erroneous.”  
“How so?”   
“I have not done your wings justice, and the face is off slightly. The hair is too solid, the muscles of your neck and shoulders are inadequate.”  
“But this you did from memory,” the Solar pointed out. “All that is needed is more observation. You are welcome to observe.”  
Alw’ion stammered his thanks, cleared his throat, and put away his ink pots, ordering them neatly.   
The Solar tentatively folded back page after page of sketches, stopping at a few to admire them in more detail.  
“Do you sell them?”   
“I will only sell work I am happy with.”  
“So you haven’t sold much,” he chuckled, handing the sketch pad back.  
“Haha, no, not really. May I ask where I may clean my brushes?”  
“Yes, follow me.” He was led into the building, down a hall and into another small but spacious room which contained an intricate water system that ran into a carved stone basin. “You’re good with your hands,” the Solar noted, observing him while leaning against the doorframe.   
Alw’ion finished quickly, and walked back to the door, expecting to go back outside, but the tall, lithe figure didn’t move, instead cupping his chin and lifting it up gingerly. His face neared.  
“What are you doing?” he asked, unsure. The Solar stopped.  
“I was looking at your eye - it’s still darker than usual. That bloody Rakshasa got what he deserved,” he hissed, venom evident in his voice. “Do you know why they were after you?”   
“No, I have no idea. I hadn’t caused any trouble - I was just passing through.”  
“Hmpf. They wouldn’t send an assassin for your head if they did not have good reason to.”  
“I would tell you if I knew.”  
“Would you?”  
He held the Solar’s stare, swallowed. “Yes.” The Solar smiled, held onto his chin for several seconds longer, then let go, his touch seeming to linger as he stepped away.  
“Night and day are not the same here as on the other planes. I will send for dinner, and afterwards you should retire for the night. It is a long way to travel to any other plane, also if you wish to travel with me... the offer still stands.”  
“To be fair, I have not yet thought about it, but I do not wish to be a burden...”  
“Your presence is no burden. In fact, it would be a very welcome change. But you must do what your soul deems you must do.”  
His soul knew what it wanted to do, but his rationality had not fled him completely; he would weigh down the celestial being, and he did not have the finances not to work while travelling, but he was sure the Solar would account for those needs, as well.   
“Do you mind if I take the night to think about it?”  
“By all means.” He bobbed his head and hid his disappointment well. But not before Alw’ion had seen it, and it shamed him somehow. Shamed him that he could not be what the Solar had thought him to be - though he had no idea what that might be exactly.   
“I -” he started to apologize, but was cut off with a caring pat on the head.  
“I understand, Alw’ion. You need not explain your character to me. You Devas overthink too much!”  
He grumbled and cast aside his gaze while the angel laughed.  
They had dinner. They spoke of things well into the night, and they retired to their own quarters, falling asleep with ease, guided by the alcohol into their heavy slumbers.  
They were both early risers, the Solar entering his room with a light knock and a platter that he set on the bed, lounging - completely at ease - besides Alw’ion.  
“Have you decided? If you do not wish to join me, I can take you to a portal to wherever you need to go...” he offered.  
“If I... truly am not a burden, then I would wish to join you on your travels. Without you I would not have seen and be able to draw such magnificence.”  
The genuine warmth in the smile on the angel’s face made him blush.  
“Good. Then when we’re done here, we’ll set off.”

***

They had travelled a long way. Now, they were in Arborea, in a reasonably secluded city, the elves going about their business in the markets.   
The Solar had to stop and wait for him every once in a while - he’d either got caught up in the sea of people, or had caught sight of something.  
“Wait here for me,” he told Alw’ion, heading in a building.   
Alw’ion looked about him, noticed the raised platform, and the humanoid shouting on top of it. He walked over to listen, joining a small gathered crowd.   
He looked up at the preacher, yelling of love and its impurities, the rules of it and its only true form: between a male and a female of the same race. Cross-race partnerships were unthinkable, same-sex was absolute taboo; disgusting and vile, his one true god would not have it, as was decreed in his holy scriptures.  
It hurt him more than he realized. Through every town he went, there was someone preaching of love, and always love held limits. He could not fathom the fact that there were limits to who or what felt love, and how and why it was felt.   
It would mean he would have to deny himself, somehow.  
The Solar moved past him, up the steps to the preacher, who turned on him with a fanatic hysterical waterfall of words crashing at the tall man.  
But when his wings spread out behind him, he went mute, the crowd stopping to stare.  
“You speak untruths. The Gods do not care for such mortal rules. You state heathen acts between two men are mentioned in your scriptures - the last time I read it, fighting poverty outweighed battling fornication within a gender. If you are a man of your faith and your religion, I suggest you start reading your scriptures better, priest.” He turned to the crowd, his voice mesmerizing. “It is enough to love - love your kin, your friends, neighbours, and even your enemies. Follow the path your soul demands you walk, and it will lead you into an afterlife of happiness and memories, and no regrets. Read scriptures these priests quote yourselves, for every eye reads a word differently. Find your meaning and fulfil it - the Gods will not turn their backs on you according to with whom you share your bed, so do not let that thought withhold you in any way.”   
He folded up his wings behind him and gracefully stepped off the stage, beckoning to Alw’ion as he walked away.   
He meandered into streets and alleys, until he stood in front of a brick wall - a dead end.  
The Solar turned and kissed him.  
Shocked, Alw’ion pulled back, clasping his hand over his mouth, eyes wide.  
“Wh-what did you just do?”  
“You chose to come with me, you must take responsibility for your decisions.” His knees went week, the Solar moved towards him.  
“No, stop!” But the damned Solar did not stop, he kept advancing, grasped his face, and kissed him, ever so gently, so contradictory to his grip. When he was given time to breathe, he gasped for air, tears in his eyes, ashamed of his own arousal. “This isn’t right.”  
The Solar pressed closer to him, felt the heat burning in his pants, smiled on his lips.  
“How can something that feels right be wrong?” And with that, he lowered his mouth again, bridging that tiny space between self-control and lust. The Solar guided him backwards, pressed him firmly against the wall with his kiss, his knee separating Alw’ion’s thighs, forcing him to relax.   
The Solar’s tongue slid into his mouth; it was so sudden Alw’ion hadn’t expected it and could do nothing against it. And then another sensation came over him; the Solar’s hand was exploring his body, counting every rib, running over his hips, his lower stomach, and back up, meeting his erect nipples under his shirt with soft hands. He twirled his thumb around Alw’ion’s nipple before pinching it.  
Alw’ion gasped, his hips bucking up.  
The Solar pulled away, looked at him with humoured eyes.  
“You haven’t been this sensitive before.”  
“Before? Wha-?” But his question was cut off by another kiss that made him forget the world around him.   
The Solar’s mouth moved down, kissing his chin, licking the sweat off his neck. He pulled off Alw’ion’s shirt and threw it aside, nuzzling into the hollow between his neck and collarbone, claiming the skin there as his own. His hands were exploring again, and led the way down, over his chest, stopping to suck and nibble on his nipple, making Alw’ion moan shamelessly, descending further still, breath dipping into his navel, before he came to cloth.   
The Solar undid the ties, ignoring Alw’ion’s feeble attempts to stop him - mind too blurred to respond right, willing him to continue too much.   
His erection sprung up to the Solar, greeting him eagerly. The Solar smiled, and Alw’ion clamped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from moaning.  
It felt strange at first, strange how electrifying this man’s mouth was. His free hand gripped the fine brown hair of the Solar as his hips curved up. The Solar met his needs, taking him into his mouth completely before pulling out, sucking on the tip, and repeating the process, kneading his testicles tenderly. But Alw’ion was climaxing quickly, his sensitive, untouched body unsure how to react, so he decided to take his chances, his hand moving further back, a finger rubbing over the Deva’s virgin skin before pushing in.  
The gasp was too loud to contain, and his erotic voice danced around in the air as seed leaked from him, down the Solar’s throat.   
Alw’ion looked down, face burning hot. “You swallowed it? Why would you do that?” Tears were starting to form in his eyes; he’d never felt such humiliation. But the Solar’s finger was still inside him and dug in deeper. In response, Alw’ion’s chin fell to his chest, his brows furrowing as he tried to contain his voice. The sensation was halfway to pain, but there was something about it, something completely new and deliciously terrifying, that he didn’t complain.   
“Turn around,” the Solar commanded in a husky, commanding tone, pulling away from him. He turned, tried gripping onto the brick wall while the Solar pulled his pants to his knees, and burrowed his face between Alw’ion’s cheeks, wet tongue finding his throbbing hole.   
“Nnn...ah...aaaah...hah...” The sensuality of Alw’ion’s body made it hard for the Solar to resist his flesh, but he had to finish this first, had to accustom the smaller, fragile body that was at his mercy. He pushed a finger in; it went in smoothly and without much resistance. The second one was more difficult, more painful, but soon his muscles relaxed, and the Solar began moving them, twisting his hand, pulling in and out, abruptly sticking in another finger.  
The blood was rushing back to his penis, a new erection slowly springing up.  
But then the tongue ceased, and the fingers pulled out, moving to rest on his hips as the Solar rose. He’d already undone his pants.  
Alw’ion had his eyebrows furrowed again, frustrated the blissful sensations had stopped. He was about to turn around to ask why, maybe even beg for more, when he felt another heat press to his skin, warmer and thicker. Was that...?  
He fearfully turned to look, started pushing away from the wall, but the Solar leant over him, his body’s warmth a small reassurance.   
“Try to relax,” he whispered as his tongue slid into Alw’ion’s ear, the sensation of the saliva making him shiver.   
The heat pressed up against his sensitive skin, still wet from what the Solar had just done to it.  
The tip entered slowly; it was uncomfortable, barely bearable. Until the Solar suddenly pushed all the way in, so fast he didn’t even give Alw’ion the time to pull away or gasp or complain.  
The pain that shot through him was sickening.  
“There, all the way to the hilt,” the Solar mumbled into his hair.  
“Gaaaah! Aaaahaaaa...” it turned into a sob. In reply, the anchors left his hips, and began running over his body instead, one hand tweaking at his nipples, the other trying to harden his softening erection.  
It took him all his effort not to move; not until the boy was relaxed enough would he move.  
“Does it still hurt?” the soft white-haired head nodded. “Do you want me to pull out?” He motioned that he would do it if Alw’ion asked him to.  
“No!” Alw’ion croaked, his hand flying away from the wall to the Solar’s hip, holding him there. Both hands now moved back to Alw’ion’s erection, rubbing his balls, stroking the base of his penis, slightly pressing into the tip, producing moan after moan.  
The Deva’s muscles weren’t as restricting now, so he began to move slightly, rolling in and out of him partially, gradually building in pace as well as how far he moved.  
Soon skin was slamming into skin, sweat mixed and euphoria was felt. The Solar, as if having been deprived, wanted more of him, fondled him, caressed him, slid his fingers in Alw’ion’s mouth to suppress the moans that would attract the attention of the surrounding inhabitants - only he would see the boy in this state.  
The Solar twisted his hips a little, and he could feel the Deva shake beneath him; he’d found his sweet spot. Gritting his teeth, he rubbed along it with a persistency and tenacity that put other lovers to shame.  
Alw’ion dug his fingers into the celestial’s hip and came again. It trickled over the Solar’s hand, slickening its movements, dripped on the floor.  
“Can I release inside of you?” He nodded his consent, barely thinking anymore.  
With a few more hard thrusts, hot fluid erupted inside of him, marking its territory. They stayed there for a while, connected, panting.  
“Did it feel wrong?” the Solar asked as he pulled out, a trail of seed flowing over Alw’ion’s thigh.   
“No,” was the soft response.   
He pulled up his own pants before he dressed the exhausted Deva gently.   
Alw’ion didn’t pull away from the kiss. In fact, he savoured it - wanted more.  
“Solars know when one lies. You are finally being truthful with yourself. And it makes you even more beautiful,” the Solar mumbled into his neck. Alw’ion let out a low moan and pushed himself against the muscular body. A chuckle, another kiss.  
“I’ve teased you enough for today - you still need to walk tomorrow,” the Solar stepped away from him.  
“What do you mean, I’ll still be able to -” As soon as he took a step towards the Solar, a numbing pain shot into his abdomen, his knees buckling beneath him.  
The Solar caught him by his elbow, and picked him up.   
“Seems I went too far already...” he noted, scowling at his own lack of self-control.  
“Unhand me, I can walk!” he lied, the pain that spread through his thighs being too great to struggle.  
“Don’t force yourself. We will be at the inn shortly. You can rest there.”  
He set off at a firm pace, deaf to further protest. 

The Solar left him at a cosy inn, the bed sheets crisp, the furniture dusted.   
It was still noisy outside, the marketplace still buzzing with people.   
He buried his face in the pillow.  
What had just happened? Had it all been a dream?   
The bronze glow of his muscles, his light, enticing scent, his large hands on him, over him, dominating his senses.  
He had been taken by a man.   
The thought was strange - he hadn’t lived too long, but the idea of it had never crossed his mind.   
Now, he felt himself throbbing again. This new experience made him wish there would be more.  
Grudgingly, he trailed down to his hardening cock, rubbed over it, breathing heavily into the pillow. But it wasn’t enough...  
His other hand travelled between his thighs, to where The Solar’s tongue had been, into there, where The Solar had penetrated him, filling him up exquisitely.  
The fingers just hurt - he was still raw, and too inexperienced himself. But he kept trying. Had to finish before...  
The Solar opened the door. He glanced at the figure on the bed, then closed the door slowly.   
Hurriedly, Alw’ion tried to cover up his behaviour, knowing it wouldn’t avail to much.   
The Solar walked to him, he crawled back, mortified at how the angel would see him now; as a whore, most likely. A cheap, insatiable prostitute who would travel with a man for a roof over his head...  
The Solar pulled away his hand, looked at him.  
“I can’t believe I left you like this...” he repined. Alw’ion turned away his face, covered his mouth, trying to stop his eyes from tearing up.   
“Aaaha... ha...” he exclaimed when he felt The Solar’s tongue on his tenderness. The hand that wasn’t covering his mouth dug into The Solar’s hair, pushing him away, but the Solar was by far stronger than he was, holding his hips down to keep him from squirming away.   
He took Alw’ion into his mouth, sucking on his tip, applying pressure to his testicles, rubbing them.  
He pushed a finger inside.  
“Gaah! Take it out! It... it hurts!” Alw’ion sobbed. The Solar pushed up Alw’ion’s knees to his shoulders. The look of horror of his new, exposed position, set The Solar’s brow in determination.  
Soon Alw’ion was no longer trying to push him away, instead holding him closer, biting his hand to keep himself from moaning. While kissing his thighs, The Solar gently probed in a finger, expertly and carefully sliding in, remembering the most sensitive part. When he found it, he took the erection back in his mouth, watching Alw’ion’s face as he reached his limits, thrusting in another finger to be rewarded with seed, swallowing it absentmindedly.  
He moved away, leaving him panting, sitting against the headboard, unbuttoning his garbs.  
“Alw’ion,” the Deva looked at him through half lidded eyes, “come here.” Obeying, he crawled over, body still shaking. “It’s your turn now.”   
He looked up at The Solar, surprised, then down at the erection that was only half visible. He pushed down the apprehension and the nerves, putting his hands around the Solar. It was so strange, it felt like his own but wider, harder. Taking a deep breath, he slid his lips around the tip, trying to think how The Solar had done it, but frustratingly his mind had gone blank.   
“Use your tongue,” The Solar instructed. Again, he did as he was told, looking up at the erotic expression of the angel. “Your hands aren’t doing much... no biting... yes, like that... deeper...”  
Alw’ion was too inexperienced - he could not tell the difference that The Solar’s cock was going through; the swelling, hardening... to him, it was very sudden, the hand holding him down rough, the cum a surprise. He choked, but The Solar held on a little longer until he swallowed at least some of it, smirking when he received an angry look.  
“You did well,” he complimented, watching Alw’ion wipe away the saliva and semen on his mouth. He just huffed in reply and spread out next to him.  
He drew over the Deva’s blue markings with the tips of his fingers, so lightly, and so delicately… It was such a comforting feeling that it soothed him to sleep.  
The next morning, the angel acted as if nothing had passed between them – as if everything was normal. But Alw’ion couldn’t keep the blush from his face, couldn’t look the man in the eye. He could walk again, but still there was a burning reminder of the night before.  
Was it that it had been a fluke? That the Solar’s actions had solely been a physical response – that it had meant nothing more than the sating of animalistic lust? He was, after all, a mere Deva – a minor angelic being that should not be allowed to stand besides such a magnificent being. Not even stand in his shadow.   
His darkening mood was noted, and a feather tickled his brow, pulling him out of his misery.  
“I have already completed my business in this town. We have a day to see the rest of the city if you wish – you could sketch some of the courtyards. They are plentiful and charming here.”  
“Is there a market?” Alw’ion asked eagerly, wrapping his fingers around the leather strap of his bag as they walked out of the inn room, down the stairs, and out into the open air.  
“There must be, let me go back and ask.” He stood alone for a little while, admiring the rose that had climbed over the inn, curving over the door, and reaching for the windowsills, but never quite reaching them. “We’re in luck. The innkeeper said the largest market is on – and there won’t be the stench of fish! Only fruit and legumes today, far more enjoyable to walk around in.”  
They walked briskly together, and soon entered a throng of people who were pooling into a large plaza filled with stalls and blooming fig trees.  
“Let us buy some provisions. Is there anything you need?” Alw’ion shook his head. “Not even certain colours of paint? Anything you wish, just name it.”  
“Thank you, but I am content with what I have in my bag. I must improve my skills before expending more money upon expensive paints. How long will we be travelling for? How much must we buy?”  
“Not much – there are always villages in this plain where food can be bought. The Gods have looked favourably here: the harvests have been good. We will get good value for money, so do not worry about that aspect.” The Solar gave him a smile and leaded them past the market stalls, stopping every now and then to examine the produce. The elves were extra humble when they laid their eyes upon both Aasimar, offering fruit to taste. When the Solar noted Alw’ion’s taste for Aelfengrape Fruit, he bought them some. Bread, butter and crumbly cheese were the only other things they bought.   
At the centre of the plaza, there was a large fountain with a great column topped by a pyramidoid structure on top of it, lionheads carved at its base, spitting out water. There were lilies growing there, in a shade of light purple that was only rarely seen.  
“You can draw them if you wish,” the Solar said, seeing his interest, “I’ll buy a bag to carry the provisions – your bag is far too small, and I do not wish for the food to ruin your artwork.”  
“It is not art –”  
“It is art, and made by a very talented hand at that. Do not degrade yourself. See your value, as well as seeing that which you must improve. Please, do not venture too far off. I will return shortly.”  
He felt like he was a child, being told to stay put like that. But when he thought about it, it was with good reason. Maybe, at least. After all, the assassins had come after him, but they might just have mistaken him for someone else…  
Like butter is guaranteed to melt in a hot pan, a world came to life on his paper. A girl with a basket of oranges on her hip stopped by his side to watch him draw, asking him politely first if he did not mind. She was pretty, and soon she sat beside him, speaking of all manner of things as he drew her. The long, brown hair, the pointy ears peeping out of it, and the shadow of fur on her cheeks. She was obviously not fully elf, but that gave her even more charm. He sketched her quickly several times over before working on a larger piece, which he traded for several oranges and a peck on the cheek.   
The Solar came back chuckling. “Your cheeks are bright red – did you fancy her that much?” He laughed then Alw’ion tried glaring, opening his mouth to protest. “Don’t worry, little Deva, I know I have nothing to be jealous of. It was an innocent play of things.”  
“Jealous?” Alw’ion repeated, befuddled. Why would the Solar be jealous of them? Of him or of her?  
“Come, now, I have purchased a sac that will accommodate to our needs.” He placed the food stuffs into the burlap sack and threw it over his shoulder, denying Alw’ion’s offer to carry it for him.   
They journeyed out of the town, the first night being the most uncomfortable. The weather was warm, the stars were plentiful. They had a little fire going, and the bread and cheese had been shared.   
“It is time to sleep,” the angel proclaimed, turning to Alw’ion. “I pray you are not cold.”  
Alw’ion stiffened. What would happen if he said yes?   
But a “no” squeaked out of him, and he quickly lay down to avoid eye contact altogether.  
What had happened the night before must have been far too soon for the young Deva…  
So the following nights they slept outside with good weather, and in separate rooms at inns if there was rain. He did nothing to pressure the Deva, giving him his time and space as they travelled to the portal.   
On the other side, they continued on, through a different landscape: one of coniferous trees and a colder climate.  
They walked on a desolate road – previously, there had been farmers that had greeted them, or traders heading to Arborea to sell their goods, calling out to them to buy some for their journey. But here, they only saw rabbits running off into the dense undergrowth, scared by the noise the two travellers made.   
Suddenly, the Solar stopped, as if listening to something, his eyes unfocused. He turned to Alw’ion.  
“Change of plan: I have received a new objective. We need to go back to the material planes for now.”  
“Who did you receive orders from?” he asked curiously, studying the man’s face.  
“Zvarta, my master.”  
“You answer to Zvarta?!” Alw’ion gaped. The Solar turned his broad shoulders to face him, standing proudly. His wings weren’t hard to imagine.   
“Yes. I am Kou’Esus, Left Hand of Zvarta.” His eyes softened when he saw the awe in the young man’s eyes. “You may call me Kou.”  
There were only whispers about this man. To meet him... an honour. To travel with him... unfathomable. And to... to...  
“What are you thinking about?” Kou asked, smile on his lips. He stepped closer. “Such an erotic face is dangerous,” he whispered. Alw’ion’s knees trembled, empowering Kou further. But he pulled back. “We have to continue on, it is a long way yet.”  
He turned and walked on.  
“Why don’t you fly there?” Alw’ion called out after him. He looked back.  
“Because when you are accustomed to flying everywhere, something as mundane as walking becomes a novelty. Or would you like me to carry you all the way there?” He kept walking, knowing what answer the Deva’s pride would result in. 

It took them weeks to reach their destination, a neutral settlement where everything was clean and orderly, the houses painted white, and the rooftops clad in red clay tiles. Roses climbed over several houses, fountains scattered the courtyards. It was a tranquil place without much bustling life or trade. It seemed like most of the inhabitants had quite some years on them.   
Kou led them to an inn, ordered a room for the night, then guided him back out, where they found a place to dine in the sun. An assortment of cured meats to begin with, turtle soup as entrée, then Sornstag with Moonslake as accompaniment, a simple salad at the side, and yellow raspberry tarts with a thin goblet of Desert star wine.   
As Kou payed for their meal, Alw’ion pulled out his sketching pad and his charcoal, his hand blurring as he sketched their current location - the weeping willow with its white flowers, the picturesque houses, the people at the tables beside them.  
To give him time, Kou bought a thimble of Fireweed whiskey to pass the time, looking about him - an image so peaceful, Alw’ion found it necessary to put it on paper. The wings were a subconscious decision, but one that fit him so perfectly...  
There was a gasp, and he turned to a Halfling child, staring at the drawing, then at the tall man who had stopped sipping his drink to give Alw’ion the best chance at drawing him right. The child looked at the Solar, could imagine the wings he was now concealing, looked at the artist.  
“Draw me, draw me!” he insisted, jumping up and down. Alw’ion smiled, and flipped over a page.  
“You have to be very still now, then,” he said seriously, and began sketching quickly and efficiently, charcoal never leaving the page.   
“With wings!” the boy started jumping again. Alw’ion laughed, and added several lines before ripping the page out of the book and handing it to the boy.   
A shrill female voice called out from the other side of the courtyard, and a young woman came running to them, embracing the child before telling him off sternly, then realizing what he held in his hand.   
“Where did you get that? Did you steal it?”  
“No, mummah, the man drew it for me!”   
She turned to them, eyes bulging as she registered the blue markings.   
“We do not have the coin to pay for such things, my lord Deva!” She turned to the child. “Hand it back.” When the child began to protest, she gave him a look that silenced him.   
“No, no, it is a gift,” Alw’ion said, flustered at the title.  
“How gracious!” The woman was gaping at him, only taking her leave when her son had run off again, leaving her to seek him out.  
He turned back to the former sketch, looked up at Kou and caught his eyes.  
“How kind you are,” he said in his deep voice, before leaning in closely, his breath tickling Alw’ion’s neck. “I want to be kind to you.” When he felt the boy shiver, he pulled away, smirking. “Are you done sketching yet? It’s getting late.”   
“Almost,” he lied, only needing the time to quieten his pounding heart. With renewed enthusiasm, he continued his work, losing the time completely.   
Finally, when he was satisfied, he closed his sketch pad.  
“I don’t get to see it after waiting so patiently?” Kou mused.  
“No, I’ll look at it again tomorrow, and then I’ll show it when I am happy.” Alw’ion gathered his items and walked on.  
“Then what is my reward?” Kou asked, laying a hand over his shoulder.  
“Nn, Kou, we’re in public,” Alw’ion hissed, trying to pull away, but Kou cupped his chin and kissed him, tongue sliding into his mouth demandingly, leaving him breathless.  
When he managed to push away, his cheeks were on fire, and he refused to look at anything but the cobblestones, making the Solar laugh.   
“Come now, my little Deva, how long must I wait for you?” he reached for him again.  
“Kou, not here...” Alw’ion complained, glancing up at Kou, noticing the feverish look in his eyes, realisation slamming into him. “You’re drunk.”   
“No, I’m not, I haven’t had enough of you yet to be properly drunk.” He tried kissing him again, but he managed on keeping him away, managing to keep up appearances all the way to the inn, where Kou ordered a bottle of Arborean wine, which he paid for immediately, taking the expensive bottle up the stairs with them, uncorking it with his teeth and taking a swig, pulling Alw’ion to him and kissing him, strong wine seeping into Alw’ion’s mouth, guided down his throat by Kou’s tongue.  
He was lightheaded before they even entered the room. All forms of resistance were cast off of him. The lonely nights he’d rather have crawled besides the angel but had not dared… their joining had not been a fluke, after all. It had meant something.  
Kou took a gulp of the intoxicating drink before he handed the bottle to his lover, who took a tentative sip. He threw off his clothes and stood tall and proud before him, guiding up the bottle to ensure he was not the only one liquored up.   
He set the wine on the floor before throwing Alw’ion on the bed, getting down on his knees next to it before reaching back to the bottle. He lowered the Deva’s pants, took a drink, before burrowing into the sweet flesh that lay before him, kissing and tasting every part of him that was so much more delicious than the wine.  
One finger, two, four... they all produced moans, they all felt wondrous.  
Kou turned him onto his back, helped him pull off the rest of his clothes, maybe tearing some stitches - they were both too preoccupied to really pay any attention to the fabric.   
Finally, the hands were on his skin again, lifting his knees, the heat pressing against him, his cock rubbing against the Solar’s smooth abdomen before Kou entered him, striking up a passionate, almost frenzied, tempo.  
His fingers dug into the bedding, his screams of pleasure he no longer thought to contain, his mind too numb from the pleasure, Kou’s strong hand around his shaft, pumping up and down with practised strokes that brought him closer to climaxing faster every time.   
The Solar’s wings filled the room.  
His back curved up, eager to receive Kou deeper inside of him, his eyes closed, a long moan escaping from his lips as he came, fluid dripping out of him.  
Kou thrust harder, rough for his doing, but sweetly so. It took him only a little longer to fill up Alw’ion, a feral growl escaping from his lips. He leaned on his arms, his hair framing his face, staring down at the panting, angelic being beneath him, usually pale cheeks flushed, the blue even darker, showing previously concealed intricacies.   
Coming back from his animalistic senses, he kissed Alw’ion deeply, rocking his hips every now and then, loving every flare of pleasure Alw’ion awoke in his groin.   
He pulled out, flipped Alw’ion on all fours, and leaned over him, pushing his hardening cock back into him.  
He licked the sweat off the blue markings on the back of his neck, held his hip in place with a hand as he began grinding in deeper, loving the heat, the tightening of his muscles every time he gasped, luring him in deeper.  
Alw’ion’s arms gave out underneath him, his cries now muffled by the sheets, his hips still held firmly in place, knees locked.   
But Kou wanted to kiss him.  
He leant over, hand curving around Alw’ion’s neck, pulling him up, hips continuing their movement, demanding the raw lips and the air that escaped from them as his own.   
His hand trailed over the Deva’s belly, gripping his cock, rubbing it powerfully until he’d come again.  
Kou followed seconds after, holding the lithe body in place, pressed against his as it was meant to be. His wings curled around the two of them.   
The feathers were so soft, the wings so strong. They felt safe.   
Kou laid them both down, arms around each other.  
“In moments like these, I wish I could draw you,” he whispered, kissing Alw’ion’s forehead. The Deva closed his eyes and smiled happily, snuggling deeper into the strong chest before falling asleep in his embrace.

“I will run my errand, and I will be back as soon as I can, all right?”  
“Hmmm...” Alw’ion replied, still half asleep, wishing the lips to linger longer on his skin.  
Kou’Esus left him lying there, glanced back at the pale-toned figure with those breath-taking patterns, the light glancing off his skin, the bed sheets draped around him so carelessly.   
He looked forward to his return.  
It was quiet. So peaceful here. Sometimes there was the sound of hooves and a cart passing by, and an odd shout to a trader, but nothing more. The world was golden through his lashes. He missed Kou’s heat on his back.  
Sighing, he stretched out and rolled into a different position, falling back into sleep. 

The door crashed open, hands were on him, dragging him away. He saw nothing but blurring figures, and the gag, and then darkness. He writhed and screamed against the fabric, but there were too many, and none of them were Kou.  
They hissed and spat at each other, throwing around curses as they dragged him down the stairs, where he was lifted by a huge, hairy figure after his hands were tied.  
One - presumably the leader - shouted something in another tongue. Something replied, something small screeched around his head.  
The being underneath him began to move, his view becoming grey as the sun lightened his world.  
The leader snapped again, and his mount growled - the tremble Alw’ion could feel throughout his entire body, before the shocking movements started and the beast began to run.   
It seemed to take an eternity before the light faded and everything turned completely black once more.   
There was a sensation of passing through a portal.   
Then they went down. Down and down and down.  
He wasn’t claustrophobic, but he could feel the earth pressing down around him, suffocating him, the air here stale with dried blood and recent death.   
“Mistress will be pleased...” his captor said to himself when they came to a halt.   
Where were they taking him?  
The bonds came off, the bag pulled from his head, the gag removed. A wooden board clamped around his arms and neck. The Gnoll looked at him.   
“Mistress will praise us. She comes now to do so.”  
The walls echoed with the sound of feet treading closer to them; a slow, steady beat that thrummed in his brain, made him tremble in fear.   
The woman that stepped into the torchlight was beyond angelic beauty, and beyond demonic evil.  
“What is this?” she breathed, staring at his naked figure kneeled on the ground, clamped into place. Nudity was not something that shamed him, it was part of life, but her gaze pierced his flesh, saw him how the demons that had brought him here couldn’t.  
“We have brought him, mistress...” the Gnoll muttered eagerly, his companions muttering in what Alw’ion presumed to be Infernal.   
“I told you to bring me the Aasimar!” she thundered. Her sudden outburst made all their blood run cold. Her anger was not something to be taken lightly...  
“But... he is Deva, Devas are Aasimar...”  
“Does he have wings? You impudent fool!” The Gnoll cowered before her.  
Shadows curved from the ground around her body, reaching all the way up over her face. She motioned with her hand, and they weaved into her skin. Her temper receded. She stepped forward, trailed Alw’ion’s jawline.   
“You have caused me great trouble, little Deva. Do you know who I am?”  
“No.”  
“I am Shar,” she whispered, her breath hot on his face, her soft feminine cheek grazing his own ever so lightly. His heart pounded against his chest. A god. He was facing a god.   
“What do you want from me?” His voice shook.   
“Why were you in the Solar’s room?”  
“What Solar?” Her nails dug into his neck, cutting off his air.  
“Do not mock me!” she roared, her hair like darkness, her eyes pure menace. She trembled, and her grip slackened. “What were you doing in the room of Kou’Esus, the Left Hand of Zvarta?” her voice was so quiet.  
“I had run out of money; my brother had come to my aid.”  
“Where is he?”  
“He had already returned to the Celestial Plane.”   
She growled, rose, looking down at him.  
“Make him suffer a little - maybe he’ll turn into a Rakshasa in his next life.” Her lips pressed a kiss to his forehead, like an attempt at an apology from someone who did not know she was doing anything wrong while pulling the legs from an insect. “__, he is not to die until I decree it.”  
With that, the shadows swallowed her completely.  
Leather fell to the floor with a heavy thud. The crack of a wrist, and the whip seared his skin. The scream his throat produced was filled with angst and pain. After the umpteenth time of leather ripping flesh, he’d lost consciousness.

The change in position awoke him - he was now standing, bent over. His back was already healing - part of the benefits of being a Deva, - but that did not take away the fire every twitch produced.  
He felt the Gnoll’s hairy paw on his hip, digging a nail into one of the marks, his other hand stretching apart Alw’ion’s backside.  
“No -” he gasped.  
The Gnoll pushed into him - its size painful, but mostly just vile and loathsome. Like a poison, spreading through his body, spilling into his veins, consuming him, destroying him.  
The shame this brought upon him was beyond something he could express verbally. It cut at his core. To be now... his magic would do little to deter the defiler, his actions might only worsen his situation. Yet still he tried pulling away, biting his lip to keep himself from screaming.   
But seeing a Cambion approach, undoing his belt, made tears stream down his face. The Gnoll howled, pounding into him with agonizing ferocity. The new grip on his hair was a reminder of how much worse this situation could become.   
The Cambion held his nose until he gasped for air, sticking his red shaft down Alw’ion’s throat, making him choke.   
The Gnoll spasmed, dug his claws into soft flesh, and held on, releasing every last putrid drop inside. After a while, the creature regained himself enough to pull out his slackening cock and scamper out of the room.  
But he wasn’t left cold.   
He heard the hooves clicking, could feel the fangs smiling. He’d have shrank away had it not been for the firm hands holding his head firmly as his face was ground into, testicles slapping against his chin.   
“Come on, brother. It is not a difficult task,” a second pair of hooves carried the voice, walking around to the Cambion’s side, looking down with a scrutinizing glare at the tears rolling down the Deva’s face.  
A group on Erinyes had come to entertain themselves. Hands gripped his hips, an erection thrust into him. The lack of the creature’s experience was obvious from its wooden movements, making it more agonizing.  
“Are you nearly done, Cambion? Or are you having trouble performing?” his voice was heavily accented. Erinyes sniggered, the Cambion glowered, but otherwise ignored the comment, keeping up his own steady pace.   
The Erinye tried to push him away once, but the growl and the threatening look was enough to stop him from a second attempt. Cambions were still at least part devils - a fight with him would be a nasty one.   
It took longer with the Erinye watching so intently, but he managed to get the job done, pulling out before he’d finished ejaculating completely, semen dripping down Alw’ion’s chin as he coughed up the rest. The Erinye pushed past the Cambion - didn’t waste any time at all, shoving himself into the open cavity, tasting of piss. His size was more manageable, but the taste...  
Alw’ion choked, the Erinye sniggered. “Am I so big that you can’t suck me?” His friends scoffed, striking up a twittering conversation in Infernal brimming with sarcasm.   
One after the other - it seemed like years had passed before all of them were done. His body was throbbing, his arms were shaking, his mouth was dry as he kept spitting out all the saliva and whatever was left of the orgy, bile sometimes spat out with it.   
The Erinyes hovered around him a little while longer, giving him a temporary relief with their presence, before they moved away, and lower demons filed by, filling the room; ghouls and others like it, things that would make your skin crawl just by looking at them, let alone...  
A presence filled the room. The lesser demons looked up, some hissed, some spat.  
A lush voice started speaking in Infernal, and havoc began amongst those present. Some even killed each other. Those who still stood eventually left.   
A cool hand grazed over his back.   
“It must be dreadful to be in such a position... would you like me to help you - just a little?” Muscles covered in simple fabric, bound by a belt, that’s all he saw. His neck hurt too much to look up.  
So the incubus knelt, looking up at Alw’ion, pushing aside the hair to look at his face.   
“I’ve come to give you a little break from all those barbarians,” he smiled. He rose and undid the clamps that bound the Deva. The bruised body fell to the ground. Calmly, the Incubus took his hands and secured them with a wooden stock.   
He picked up Alw’ion, who barely even managed to respond, and carried him a little way, resting the Deva upon himself as he lay down with his back against the wall.  
“I had forgotten how smooth an angel’s skin is...” he stroked the marked skin, counting ribs and vertebrates, all the way down. Alw’ion tried to speak, but his throat was too raw. Tried pushing himself up, but his arms felt like lead, the only thing he could do was clench his fists.  
“By the Gods, you’re tender, aren’t you?” the Incubus muttered against his ear, licking his neck as his fingers felt their way into him.   
His hands gripped the fabric of the demon’s shirt so tightly his knuckles were turning white.   
Don’t touch me, don’t touch me, don’t touch me...  
Lightly his head was turned. Lips connected on his own, but he pulled back vigorously, making the Incubus chuckle.   
“Claimed, are we?” Alw’ion refused to look at him, trying desperately not to cry. But he felt the demon’s mood darken, along with the malicious insertion of two more fingers, spreading him out. It hurt. “Such a sweet voice,” he muttered before running his tongue over Alw’ion’s moving Adam’s apple.   
“I was wondering what I was hearing...” another voice said behind them. The Incubus looked up with a look that could kill, but it turned to recognition and an evil grin.  
“Vampire. By what name do you go in this form, brother?”  
“Does it matter to you?”  
The Incubus feigned hurt surprise, his fingers never ceasing their motion. “May I not care deeply...” he pushed inside roughly, producing a gasp and a whimper, “... about you?”  
The voice laughed.  
“There were rumours that there was a toy for the males... I was expecting something a little more... how to put it... of the other sex.”  
The Incubus chuckled. “He’s trying so desperately not to, but the extent he’s welcoming my fingers... it puts women to shame.” The Vampire huffed. “You don’t believe me? Come on, try him then.”  
“Is he still free of disease after all he’s been through?”  
“He is Deva,” the Incubus scoffed, trailing the blue markings on Alw’ion’s back with his nails.   
A rough hand pulled back his head by his hair. He hadn’t expected it, and cried out, shackled arms moving up to try and tear the hand away from him. The Vampire gazed down at him in surprise. The Incubus chuckled.   
“Do you understand now?” The Vampire said nothing, but let his hair go abruptly. He fell back onto the Incubus who nuzzled back into his neck, hoisting him up a bit. He rummaged around with his own garments, and thrust inside without much warning.   
“I know you had him first - but must I witness this?” the Vampire scowled.  
“He’s been through quite a lot... he can have more. Care to join?” Alw’ion stiffened. Did he really mean...  
It stayed quiet for a while. Then he heard movement, fabric, shuffle of feet, a cold hand on his waist.  
“Press him down on me,” the Incubus commanded. A second icy hand touched his back, forcing him down onto the demon before he had time to respond - to at least try and get away. The other hand trailed down to his hip.  
He felt like he couldn't breathe. The restriction of the hand pressing him, crushing him down, the thought of what was going to happen taking the wind from his lungs...  
Another warm hardness pressed up against the other one, pushing in slowly - not gently.   
“GAAH-aaahaa...” he choked.   
The Incubus shushed him tenderly, entwining his fingers with Alw’ion’s white hair. “Hush, now, little Deva. You’ll feel good soon enough.”  
The Vampire’s pace was brutal, offering him no time to adjust, simply claiming space where he did not belong. It was like being ripped apart.  
“Cursed Gods, he smells so good.”   
“He’s not your meal,” the Incubus warned. The Vampire didn’t object.   
Droplets of sweat fell onto his back - the Vampire was breathing heavily, grunting every once in a while, when the Incubus moved the opposite direction as him, pushing, pulling, and stretching sensitive skin in the expert way their kind had.   
The Vampire grunted something in Infernal, making the Incubus laugh, as he came.  
“La, laz hyz. Don’t pull out yet.” The Vampire scowled but uncharacteristically obeyed. The Incubus rolled them over. Alw’ion felt even more exposed, brought his hand to cover his face as his hips were moved for him, the Incubus’ girth seemingly larger than before, but he wasn’t brutish. In fact, he...  
“If she gives you to me, I’ll make you beg for the pleasure I’ll give you now,” he said, his hand stroking down from his chest, over his abdomen, dipping into his navel, and wrapping around his limp penis. His hands knew their way, know what to do, how to do it, how much pressure to apply, everything.  
It was no easy feat, but Alw’ion managed to resist him, keeping himself from an erection with all his might. The Incubus snarled.   
“You bring shame on your kind.” The mirth in the Vampire’s voice was obvious. The stale, sweat-scented air turned cold when the Incubus whispered something, clutching Alw’ion’s chin, forcing him to look into his eyes.   
The Incubus was using Charm. Too late he realized it. Already he felt his resistance ebbing. The Vampire tsked in disapproval.   
“Relying on cheap tricks now?”  
“Wudylty.” Again, the Vampire was humoured. “Don’t resist me, my little Deva.”   
His hips rolled up to the Incubus’ touch, blood streaming to his groin. It was like the world had suddenly burst into colour - he finally felt the Incubus rubbing against his prostate ecstatically.   
“What a reaction,” the Vampire grunted, feeling the movement, his own loins sparking up another fire. But he saw the Incubus’ surprise - knew this wasn’t the average response to the demon’s touch. “He’s been trained?”  
The demon looked at the blue body beneath him.   
“Who does your soul belong to?” the Incubus asked him, clenching the base of his erection as a tourniquet, preventing his climax. The immediate ache made Alw’ion moan. “Who?!”   
“K- ah... Kou, Kou’Esus.” The Incubus’ eyes bulged.   
Kou. yes, Kou. Kou touched him. Kou made him feel good. Not this fiend, this polar opposite, this snake.   
The Charm shattered.  
He lunged for the demon’s throat, who fell back in shock. Alw’ion managed to break free from both men, gripped a dagger from the Incubus’ belt, but was overpowered quickly, pinned to the ground. Kou’Esus was his lover, and he would die happily with that knowledge. He opened up his neck, welcomed their metal, their nails, their teeth, as long as they killed him.  
But there was noise that distracted the two monstrosities. Shouts, swords clashing, flesh being sliced, blood squirting.  
Yes, Kou’Esus was his lover.  
His saviour.   
The angel charged into the room, bloodied sword in hand. He did not slow down at the sight, simply dispatched the beings by decapitating them both in one swing. The Incubus wouldn’t have stood a chance, and the Vampire had simply been too slow.   
“Kou!” he sobbed. The Solar kissed him. Kissed him so fervently it almost hurt, but it was a hurt he had wished for. His heart was skipping twenty beats, his head had gone light.   
“We have to get out of here.” Without time to spare, the stock that bound Alw’ion’s wrists was sliced open, and he was dragged out, the world flashing by him. The Solar cut down anything he found in his path - more Gnolls, Fomorians, a swarm of Spinagons, and even a Chain Devil whose futile attempt had been to entrap them both.   
They raced on, until Kou came to an abrupt halt.  
“She said the Deva might be lying. She said you might come to collect him.” An Obsidian arm raised a snaking sword towards them. “But you’re not taking him before I have a taste of his flesh.”  
The Solar stepped in front of him protectively, muscles trembling in a molten fury. His blade sliced the air, accepting the challenge, before being lifted again in a fighting stance.   
“Graz'zt, you will regret those words.”  
The Dark Prince hissed, began up a string of mumblings in different tongues.  
“Alw’ion, run!” Kou shouted, blade meeting steel. He offered no further comment, as he was too focussed on creating spells to deflect those Graz’zt cast upon him.  
It hurt leaving, but he knew he would only be a liability in the fight - he had to try and get to the surface.  
With his racing heart, he ran up every flight of stairs, and yet somehow, he felt he was entering deeper into the maze. Whenever he sensed a demon, he hid until it had passed and ran the other way, eventually ending up in a huge tall cavern, stalactites pointing down at him. Half of the grotto’s floor was comprised of water, from which light illuminated; there was most likely a way out, for it looked like golden sunlight.   
He hesitated, heard hissing and snuffling close behind him, and decided to take the risk, taking in a deep breath before diving into the water. The cold hit him like a punch to the gut, but he managed to bare it. It took his eyes a little while to adjust, and it turned out that the light had been reflecting off thousands of golden coins, all sparkling in the darkness.   
He dove deeper, and managed to locate the hole, more than sufficiently large to fit through.  
With a couple of powerful kicks, he dove through the hole and looked up, seeing a vast surface of light above him; he’d most likely ended up in a lake or the sea. He cast a Buoyant Lifting spell over himself, his body racing to the surface.   
His lungs were burning, and air had never felt so good. He looked around him. In front of him there was nothing but sea. Behind him there was nothing but sea.   
Dread clenched at him. What was he going to do?  
He sent up prayers to the gods, any who had something to do with dire situations or water, shouting the commune spell until his throat was sore and his muscles were beginning to cramp up.   
A caw made him look up. A white gull swirled overhead before flapping down to float in front of him. He racked his brain.   
“Lady Isis,” he greeted, tears starting to stream down his cheeks. “I have felt the love of another man. I do not know if that is a love you agree with, but I wish it again.” Another caw, and a breeze picked up. He heard the wind whispering something, a light and warm drizzle starting up.  
“This is all I can do for you...” a voice, so lovely and so kind, breathed in his head.  
“What? What have you done?” He asked aloud, looking around him, but in his moment of distraction, the bird had disappeared and the rain had stopped.   
He was alone again.   
Dread filled him. What was he going to do? He could go nowhere. He had to go back, find the cave again.  
As soon as the words to counteract his spell were uttered, he sank slightly, and something slimy passed against his ankle. He looked down, kicking around in fright as a clawed hand clasped around his calf and began dragging him down. He screamed, but his voice turned to bubbles as soon as his face was below the surface of the water.   
He was going to die.   
Maybe that was better.   
When his lungs could no longer hold in his last breath, salty water streamed into his mouth as he gasped for air. He found he could breathe.   
Joy seeped through him - Isis had cast a water breathing spell over him, he realized.  
And then came the understanding that it would only postpone his death, and might actually cause a more brutal end.  
He looked down, into the beady eyes of a Merrow, its size impossible to measure as it dragged him down, deeper and deeper, and he could do nothing about it. His naked form held no weapons to fight the creature off, his magic had reached its limit.   
Gradually, the water became warmer as they ventured downwards, to the point where his body no longer complained of the cold. The adrenaline in his veins might have helped a little, too, though.   
He tried again to kick free, and managed with one leg to do so. But the Merrow’s talons didn’t allow him to go very far. So he descended into the depths, looking up to see the light fading more and more.  
He was yanked into another cave, similar to the one he’d been in before, only less gold and more bones littered the bottom. They, along with the long, thick strands of kelp, were illuminated by bioluminescent algae growing on the cave roof amongst the cracks.   
His attention was drawn back to the Merrow who was now on an equal level with him. The dirty blue tentacles on its chin curled and drifted around, as if tasting the water. Black pea eyes stared at him intently, maliciously. His dorsal fin quivered, its muscular arms, holding his harpoon, moved, and swung down, the butt hitting Alw’ion’s temple, knocking him out.   
When he awoke, he found himself floating in the water, his feet tied to the ground, his wrists bound tightly together, the rope made of sturdy kelp. His mind was still groggy.   
“Your smell - sex.” If a Merrow could frown, he would be doing it. Seems like he was an unusual example; more humanoid than other Merrows. After all, otherwise he wouldn’t be speaking in common tongue.   
“What do you mean?” He offered the same words again, and this time he understood. He smelt of the men in the dungeons. Of their sweat, their seed. He took comfort in the fact that the water was washing it from his skin.   
The Merrow approached him, swam around his body, looking at his groin. It was obvious he was confused: why would a man smell of other men? On most plains it was accepted, but it seemed to be taboo for the Merfolk.   
The slimy hand landed on his him, spread his rear apart, the déjà vu like lightning through his body, preventing him from moving.  
“Like this?” The Merrow pushed into him, tentacles tapping his back. If his skin was slick, his phallus was slime, clamping and widening in him, sticking to every crevice. The nausea and the repulsion were so overwhelming, he forgot to scream. The Merrow barely moved, but seemed to pulsate inside of him, until finally more seed oozed into him. He pulled away, and swam out without another word or even glance.

He was still trembling when the Merrow came back. It had with it a net of fish. Without offering a word, it killed them, gutted them - slurping up most of the organs as delicacies. He took off their skins, cut the flesh.  
“Hungry?” he asked, offering fish.  
“Please let me go, I don’t want your food, I just want to go home.”  
“This is home. Fish?” The Merrow didn’t allow any more to be said, feeding Alw’ion the flesh, still warm. It was cumbersome getting it down his throat, his stomach didn’t enjoy it much, either. But the Merrow seemed to notice his hefty distaste and cut up a couple of leaves of the kelp, cutting off the toughest bits and feeding him ribbons of the brown-green leaves.   
It settled his stomach. It let him feel his exhaustion. The Merrow disappeared somewhere again, and his eyes closed. 

The penetration awoke him; this time, he did cry out. Loathsome, detestable creature...   
Again, little movement. Again, the ooze. Again, the silence of being left alone in a cave in the middle of a bloody ocean where nobody ever came. 

Twice more the Merrow suddenly appeared, slid into him, did his business, and glided back out. He was alone again.   
A sudden thought hit him - he was not powerless. Days must have passed; his magic would have regenerated. He looked up from his kelp bonds, and cast a commune spell, but not to his usual god.   
“Will you guide him to me?”  
There was a long stretch of considering silence.  
Zvarta finally answered: “Yes.”  
He felt the slithering presence of the Merrow.  
“Who were you speaking to?” he asked, scales bristling.  
“Myself, just to myself.”  
“Angels are strange.”  
Alw’ion didn’t reply, instead leaning away from the approaching threat. He grit his teeth, turned his head away.  
Talons gripped his hips, a nail trailing one of the blue patterns on his skin, drawing a string of blood. He continued trailing the pattern but did not pierce his skin again. His whiskers tapped and slid over his shoulder as he moved behind him.  
His gut was already churning with what was to come, the fins trailing over his legs.  
But the Merrow went rigid.  
Had... had Kou killed it already? Had he come? Was he...  
The whiskers started moving again.  
“Angel blood... is sweet,” he stated, something comparable to human lust in his voice.  
The wound - the little blood that had escaped from its confinements had found its way to the Merrow’s uncanny taste buds.  
Everyone knew the stories of Merrow - however it was only now that Alw’ion started to face reality.   
Roughly his legs were pulled apart, the Merrow pushing himself roughly inside, throbbing and pulsating, moving little as seemed customary for the species. But he did something else this time - he clamped his teeth down on Alw’ion’s shoulder.  
Screaming was the only thing he could do, bubbles floating up to the top of the cave. His tongue collected the blood, pushed it down his wretched throat and into his body. Gruesome, truly gruesome. And humiliating to be fed from without being able to do anything, and in this position, this disgraceful, noxious, vulgar position...  
He was becoming desperate, but none of his past lives had encountered a situation even remotely compatible to what he’d gone through, but there were a few situations where... where Kou’Esus had come to save him... Kou... he’d known him in his past lives? No wonder his soul felt drawn towards the mighty Solar.   
The realization hit him painfully hard.  
No matter what shape he’d taken on, no matter what gender, Kou was there, protecting and saving him, caring for him, kissing him, loving him.   
But he’d let this creature have his way with him. He’d damaged a purity he hadn’t known existed - ruined something perfect.  
This was now his punishment for having done so.  
While his thoughts had been racing, the pain hadn’t dulled. In fact, it seemed to have increased, in both places the Merrow was attached to him. The creature’s slimy brown body writhing against him felt more grotesque than it had before, its teeth now more like parasites, digging their way deeper into his skin.   
A talon raked a trail over his back, and he screamed again. Seed burst out inside of him, filled him up, sickened him.  
The Merrow gave one last lick and released his shoulder, two rows of agitated red flesh like war monuments of the event.  
The Merrow pulled away from him, shaken by the richness of his meal. He slid away from the Deva, back into the ocean.  
His skin felt loathsome, and he couldn’t scrub the feeling away, could only give himself to the ocean, but it did not feel like a friend to him.

There was a flicker, a change in light - the Merrow had returned. He tried to still the panic that was rising inside of him.   
He imagined the great head with the tentacle-like whiskers, the beady dim eyes, the teeth, the filth all over him.  
But his imagination had been wrong, it was a strong arm he saw first, the head a familiar and beautiful sight, the rest of his body quickly coming into view.  
He held a knife between his teeth now taking it to cut the tough kelp bonds.   
Kou gripped his cheeks, pressed his mouth against his and breathed Alw’ion’s breath; it would seem like no spell had been cast upon him.  
“Can you swim?” Kou asked telepathically. He nodded, eager to escape.  
He followed his saviour into the tunnel, finding it strange how it was to feel his body move again.  
As soon as they exited, a harpoon missed Kou by inches.   
With cruelty, he attacked the Merrow, cutting out its guts and castrating its dead body.   
He turned to Alw’ion, breathing from his lips again.   
“He deserved worse. Use a buoyancy spell.”  
They held on to each other as he uttered the words, moving up at good pace.  
And then Kou was gone.  
Shocked, Alw’ion looked at the shadow disappearing into the depths, a greater figure moving behind it. A tentacle came up for him, too, but he was moving too fast, the thing diving the other way.   
What was it? Another Merrow? But they didn’t have tentacles like that... the Prince of Demons himself? This thing was too accustomed to the water...  
A dreaded name crept up in his mind, a gargantuan beast, breaking ships with a mere flick if a tentacle, sucking in hundreds and thousands of lives: Kraken.  
He broke to the surface - fresh air was sweet, but he felt no joy. He’d been the reason Kou came here in the first place - he would be the reason of his death. For surely even the mighty Kou’Esus could not hope to single-handedly defeat a Kraken.   
The ink started to rise to the surface.  
Immediately it began to irritate his skin. Looking out over the water, he noticed it was a trail, and he was at the beginning of it. Quickly, he swam out of the toxic cloud, desperate for Kou.  
Devas do not feel fear - not for themselves. They will die, and they will live on. But fearing for another... the intensity of that emotion was crippling.  
Taking a breath, he pushed his head below the water, just able to see the great beast swim past, furiously trying to get at something that held its jaws apart, and then it was gone.   
Kou wasn’t dead just yet. He had to think of something - another commune, but to whom? What god would aid him? He had already expended too much of his luck on the gods. But there was nothing in sight - no boats, no land, nothing but a sallow blue specked with greying clouds, and a still green ocean smeared with poison.  
If only he could -  
Something exploded from the water underneath him; he was lifted up with such force that his head bent back, and all he could see was the sky.   
Wings beat furiously, teeth appeared around them. The Kraken had jumped up after Kou.  
But the Solar knew no fatigue nor fear, continuing up and up, harder and faster until they broke free of the chaos. The beast fell back down with a furious guttural cry that could be heard over the entire plain.  
It strengthened evil, caused chaos and fear amongst people - impending doom a well-known fact after a Kraken’s call.  
It crashed back into the water, sending out tidal wave that lessoned only at the horizons.  
“The Kraken will take its revenge out on the people here!” Alw’ion stated, worry evident, looking at Kou in desperation.  
“Do not fret, I have already notified those I serve, as well as requested the presence of my brethren. That Kraken will perish today,” he assured him, passing through a cloud and up out of it, coming to a halt.  
Planetar and Solar alike had their wings beating elegantly, waiting for him. One handed him his sword back.  
“Olhydra will pay for sending that creature.”  
Olhydra? Where did she come into all of this?  
Alw’ion looked around him, at the drawn swords, the lawful set of the Solars’ jaws, the war lust of the Planetars. This was not just a rescue mission - this was a hunt. And the hunted would not come out lightly.  
A few more seconds the Celestials looked at one another, preventing their telekinesis from reaching the Deva’s mind - these were matters of the Gods, and even though he was part angel, it did not concern him.  
Then, as one, they dove down through the cloud. Alw’ion could hear their war cries in his mind, the splashes, the muted voice of the Kraken. Its death cries.  
“They will be taking care of Olhydra next - we have no further business here.”  
“Don’t you need to help them?”  
“I have more important things to attend to,” Kou said, looking down at him intensely.  
Using all three of his wings, he propelled them off into the sky so fast, Alw’ion lost consciousness.

When he awoke, they were already on another plane, swooping down, passing from darkness into sudden harsh light.  
He landed on a patio, and another deva hurried out to greet them, her blue hair and blue eyes a familiar and homey sight.  
“I heard your voice, brother. I have prepared a room and the medicine you asked for.”  
“Medicine?” Alw’ion croaked.  
“Your shoulder wound is starting to fester.” He looked at his shoulder, saw how red it was, puss starting to form in certain places - it was not a beautiful sight in the least. With a determined stride, he followed the girl into a bathroom, water steaming from a large bathtub.   
She was gone and back with a box containing the herbs. She left them after casting a worried glance at her fellow Deva, paler than he should be, his blue lines barely distinguishable.   
Kou stripped them both when Alw’ion found he no longer had any energy, and sank them into the hot water.   
He cried out when it touched his shoulder, but Kou held him down until the pain became a throb. He was then left there as Kou used the herbs to make an ointment which he lathered generously over the wounds.   
“He fed from you...”  
“Just once.”  
“When did he... during... did he?”  
Alw’ion pulled away when Kou moved his hand to his lower back.  
“Please don’t touch me,” he whispered, choking on his emotions. He steeled himself for an outrages departure from Kou, some yelling and screaming, or silent disgust at sharing a bath with him.  
But instead Kou gripped his wrist and pulled him closer, sliding a finger into him.   
The hot water burnt him, and he gasped in pain. He refused to look Kou in the eyes, afraid he would start weeping.  
“How many times did he take you?”  
“Not... not many.”  
“How many?” he growled.   
“Five times.”  
“And the demons?”  
“I lost count.”  
“I’m so sorry.” Alw’ion looked at him, surprised. He saw the defeat in the Angel’s shoulders, the absolute regret and the shame of having them touch him.  
He cupped Kou’s cheeks. He kissed him.  
“It was my own fault for being weak. Don’t blame yourself.” He pulled back, unwilling to defile the angel any longer.  
“But it is all my fault,” Kou insisted, pulling him back gently, embracing him, pressing their skin together.  
“Please don’t touch me,” Alw’ion whispered. “I can still feel them on my skin.” Again, he made another feeble attempt to get away.   
“Let me wash them off you, then.”   
With meticulous precision, he washed the Deva, planting his lips on skin every now and then. He set aside the soap and used his tongue when he reached his thighs, probing inside, allowing warm water to enter, to wash him out.  
Alw’ion shivered and tried to conceal his moan.   
No matter how disgusting his own skin felt to him, he felt like a god when the might Kou’Esus touched him.  
When Kou was satisfied, he lifted the Deva out of the water, dried him off with a massive towel before wrapping one around his own waist, and lifting Alw’ion up again.   
He didn’t complain - the comfort in this quiet embrace soothed his hurting soul.  
Out of the bathing room, down the hall, into a massive bedroom with a large four-poster bed and sheer silk curtains that fluttered in a light wind from the open windows.   
The towels slipped off their bodies.  
Kou placed him on the bed ever so gently, kissing him, their erections rubbing against each other. He got on the bed next to him, pushed Alw’ion into the centre of the bed, nuzzling up to his back.   
His hand ran over Alw’ion’s arm, then stomach, then hip, and finally lifted his thigh. His hardness pierced the Deva’s flesh, and he savoured the moan his lover produced.  
With one arm on his good shoulder, and the other around his waist, he held Alw’ion firmly to him, refusing to give him a chance of escape, grinding into him passionately, rolling around until he found the place that made Alw’ion shiver, pushing against that same spot repeatedly until he felt his hips move on their own accord, the gasp, and then seeing the seed flow out of him.  
“Did it feel good?” Kou’s voice was low and husky, coming to his own climax. In response, Alw’ion turned his head and kissed the Solar, their tongues lingering together until he could no longer contain himself and released his own seed.   
“Nnn... ah...”   
Kou ran a hand through the fine, light hair, kissed his crown and wrapped his arms around the Deva, keeping them there, until Alw’ion wriggled up to look Kou in the eyes.  
There was silence for a little while as they stared at each other.  
“Where did you get the scar?” Alw’ion murmured, his hand trailing over the pale silver line that marred the otherwise perfect face.  
“You gave it to me,” Kou smiled nostalgically, looking into his eyes.   
“I did?” he asked, shocked. “Why?”  
“In the days this planet was young, I met you. You were Rakshasa.” Alw’ion gaped at him. He had been one of the fallen? “Yes, it is hard to believe, especially in those early days - you must have seen something truly vile in the life before that. You attacked me when I was guiding an Avatar from plane to plane. I hadn’t noticed you, nor your bandit companions.” Kou chuckled at the memory. “You cut me - a lucky strike, and I knocked you unconscious. The rest I dealt with quickly. But I sensed something about you... I sensed your soul, crying in the dark. The Avatar sensed it, too, and gave his consent to me bringing you along.   
“I tied up your arms and legs, slung you over my shoulder and we moved on, making good time. When you awoke, you tried to bite me!” Alw’ion laughed, his cheeks burning. “I completed my quest, and I spent several weeks simply travelling with you. After a few days, I no longer carried you. After a month, I took off your bonds. You then agreed to accompanying me on my quests. Years we spent together, and every day I could sense your heart lighten. I had a friend in you - someone I trusted wholeheartedly, even though there was still evil chaining you down.” Kou went silent, sorrow in his gaze.   
“What’s wrong?”  
“You died for me. There was an ambush - better than the one you had devised. You took an axe to your shoulder. It almost cut you in half... I destroyed our attackers. And I held you in my arms. And I told you that I love you.” Alw’ion gasped, his heart pounding. Kou looked him in the eyes, stared at him. He felt so bare and powerless before that gaze. “And you said you loved me. And that you had wanted to be held by me for years. So, I promised I would find you again, make love to your next incarnation and the one after that, and the one after. I flew you into the clouds, and your chains were finally cast off. You left your body in this... otherworldly explosion of light.” He cleared his throat. “You were once again Deva, and you have been ever since, I have made sure of that.” His wing folded over them, followed the blue markings tenderly on Alw’ion’s skin, lost in thought.  
Alw’ion closed his eyes, curved his neck up to the feathers. There was such warmth in this embrace. So much...  
“I love you,” he whispered, eyes fluttering open.  
Kou stared at him, ripped from his own train of thoughts.  
“I wanted to be first to say it in this lifetime.”  
He could feel Kou’s smile on his lips when they kissed.  
How his soul loved this man.

“Does it hurt?” Kou asked, taking the bandage off, examining the wound that was already healing nicely.   
“Not much.”  
“It is a good thing your body heals so fast.”  
They both drew back in their own worlds. Kou cursing himself over and over as he examined the wound - he’d let them touch his soulmate. He’d let them taste what was not theirs to taste. He hadn’t been able to protect him. Not once, but twice he’d been swept from under his nose. He vowed he wouldn’t let it happen again. Alw’ion would join him everywhere he went and vice versa.   
But Alw’ion’s thoughts were on other matters.   
“What happened with Graz’zt? He asked, before whimpering as Kou spread an ointment over the open flesh.  
“We battled. When I could no longer feel your presence, I escaped. He tried to come after me, but he couldn’t.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I cast an invisibility spell - I was standing right next to him and he ran past.”   
“Why did you run?”  
“I might be exceptionally strong by most standards, but to have a full-out battle with the Dark Prince... it would cost me a whole lot more than I am willing to give to slay him. And Zvarta did not order me to do so - to harm another divine being of such magnitude would be an insult to my master.”  
“But... aren’t they conspiring against you?”  
Kou stiffened.  
“How come you think that?”  
“Shar didn’t want me. She wanted you.”  
“Enough of this. I will commune with Zvarta.” He finished wrapping up Alw’ion’s shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> Basically Shar is the mastermind behind all of these disruptions - however I'm not sure how to end it, and therefore I have left it open. Maybe I'll continue. I don't know yet.


End file.
